


The Wildflower Prince

by charldalton



Category: DCU
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 13:41:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13435926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charldalton/pseuds/charldalton
Summary: When Jason is sent to Gotham to be married, he expects an obedient, beautiful betrothed to be waiting for him. What he gets is beautiful, and anything but obedient.





	The Wildflower Prince

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NitroJen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NitroJen/gifts).



> Written for the JayDick winter exchange.

Roman Sionis had raised no weak omega prince, or so he had told his son Jason day after day from the moment he’d been born. Jason considered himself lucky to not have, in fact, been born an omega: he assumed that his father would have hated him all the more for it. 

Or he would have married Jason off to a man like himself, instead of marrying Jason off to some poor, unwitting omega from a faraway land. As an alpha, it was his duty to go willingly, to do his duty to king and country and seal the alliance between Janus and Gotham once and for all. Legend said that the feud between families Wayne and Sionis had been raged bitterly for centuries now, and the attempt between the current kings to join in friendship had been a grand failure that both kingdoms still bore ugly wounds from.

The fact of the matter was, Janus and Gotham could no longer afford to be at war. Times were difficult, the winters were long, and resources were sparse enough without adding the needs of armies to the mix. So a deal had been brokered: Prince Jason and Prince Richard would be joined in marriage, and such a union would end the long feud between their families once and for all. 

Jason had expected to stay in Janus when the time finally came for him to be married. He was King Roman’s only son, after all, and the heir to his father’s throne. But one condition of the marriage had been his living in Gotham until the time came for him to take the throne. King Bruce had apparently been hesitant to send his eldest son to a hostile kingdom so soon, and Jason couldn’t really blame him. Knowing his father, Prince Richard would have been a hostage before he had the chance to marry anybody, let alone the crown prince. 

So, the arrangements had been made. Jason would be moving to Gotham to be married, and Roman would stay behind to rule until he grew tired of his duties or until he died. When he said goodbye, there was no hugging, no tears, no sentiments of love and farewell. There was simply his father, telling his son to do his duty and to do it well before he had taken his leave back to the throne room, leaving Jason to saddle his horse alone and to ride off silently with his royal guard. He had expected nothing less: his father had never been a sentimental man. The one sentiment he had was that alphas such as himself and his son were supposed to be tough, hard, unyielding as the oak shields they bore and as intimidating as the black war paint they donned before battle. 

Jason wasn’t sure if he was sad, angry, or relieved to leave it all behind. Gotham turned out to be remarkably similar to home: dark, gloomy, with grey clouds that always seemed to cover the sky and vast, forbidding forests that dotted the landscape. He had felt right at home until he’d met King Bruce, and his eldest son Prince Richard. 

Richard was as beautiful as all the stories described him: tall (if not as tall as Jason), gracefully built, with a face as finely painted as any of the ones hanging in the halls. He wore a smile when he greeted Jason, a contrast to the stony look on his father’s face, and when he’d been told to show Jason his chambers he’d been as gracious of a host as he could be. 

That was, until they’d been alone and he’d shoved Jason against the wall with a fierce look on his pretty face, hand clenched as though it itched for a dagger to hold. 

“I won’t tolerate any of your cruelty,” he’d said, so unlike the omegas Jason was used to that he’d been too shocked to even react. “I’ve heard all the stories, of you and your father. You kill, you torture, but you won’t be doing any of that here. I won’t be your pet, and you won’t be my master. I expect you to treat me with respect, as your husband and as your host.” And then he’d stood back, as calm and collected as could be, and offered Jason his arm to take.

Wide-eyed, with a dent between his brows as he stared suspiciously at his strange creature who smelled so good and yet had such a feisty, alpha-like demeanor to him, Jason had snarled at him. He’d expected Richard to cower, to repent, to beg his forgiveness – but he’d done none of that. He’d given Jason an unimpressed look and dropped his arm. 

“Fine, have it your way. Your room is down the hall, the last door on the right. Find it yourself.” And with that, he’d waltzed past as though Jason’s pheromones had no effect on him whatsoever. Jason had been tempted to grab his arm, to press him against the wall and tell him how it was. But instead, he’d stood there with a dumbfounded look on his face, staring curiously at the man who was supposed to be his mate in a week’s time. 

The next day had been Jason avoiding his betrothed, and when he’d seen King Bruce at supper that night, the man had a look on his face like he knew: and like he was almost amused by it. Richard, seated to his right, had preened and laughed and practically sparkled, and Jason had watched him half longingly, half infuriated. Who was this omega who thought he had a right to act so high and mighty? Jason was to be his alpha, not his omega. Richard was supposed to be the omega. But despite all of that, there was still longing in his face, and damn Richard because he knew: he knew, and when he looked up to see Jason staring at him, he smiled and had the audacity to wink at him before turning back to whoever he’d been charming before. 

The next morning, Jason showed up at Richard’s door with a bouquet of wildflowers he’d gotten up at the crack of dawn to pick. He had dark circles underneath his eyes for his troubles, but he presented the flowers when Richard answered. 

“We got off to a bad start,” he said, clumsily as Richard looked at him curiously, almost birdlike in the way his head cocked and his blue eyes glimmered. “I wanted to apologize, for growling at you. And I wanted to ask you if you would show me around the grounds.” He’d gotten lost picking the flowers, but Richard didn’t need to know that. 

And when Richard reached out to take the offering, he brushed his hand against Jason's, and he smiled. 

“Alright,” he said, still looking at Jason with the smile that had the alpha feeling almost woozy – the way his pheromones were supposed to make Richard feel, but the irony didn’t sting quite as much as before. “Let me get dressed, and then we’ll go, alright?” Jason nodded his head, and was rewarded with another flash of that smile. “And you should call me Dick. It’s what everyone in my family calls me.” 

Jason could only nod again, and when the door had closed, he’d murmured the name softly to himself. 

Their courtship only really began after that morning. Jason tried his best to be gentle, to woo Dick instead of demand him, and Dick responded to it. He would smile at Jason whenever he did something sweet: and eventually, he began to hold his hand, or kiss his cheek, or brush his hands affectionately through the dark hair on Jason’s head. 

The first time Dick kissed him for real, they were sitting by the lake just beyond the castle, watching the swans glide across the water. Jason’s head had been resting in his lap, eyes turned towards the water and watching the way the setting sun reflected across the glassy surface. Dick had leaned down, startling him into looking up, and he’d felt the soft brush of lips across his own. Dick had been smiling when he’d eventually pulled back up, and he’d laughed when Jason sat up and nearly tackled him back, kissing him until they were both breathless and dizzy. 

That week seemed like it was both the shortest week of Jason’s life, and the longest one. After that first kiss, he’d only wanted Dick more, smitten by the smell of him and the feel of his body underneath his own. But every time his hands had wandered lower, brushing up Dick’s thighs and underneath his tunic, the omega would merely smile against his lips and reach down to stop the wandering hands. 

“Not yet,” he’d whisper in Jason’s ear. “We must wait until the wedding night. It’s only proper.” 

And then he would grind his hips upward just to tease him. 

Jason felt as though he would die of want, but he never did. And when their wedding came, he couldn’t honestly say he remembered a lot of it. 

But he remembered Dick, radiant in white, kissing him as the high priest of Gotham declared their union sacred underneath the eyes of the gods. 

He remembered Dick in his arms as they danced, warm and alive and as full of life as he ever was, urging Jason to spin him again as he laughed breathlessly. 

And he remembered Dick taking his hand underneath the table as the candlelight grew low, whispering in his ear that it was time. 

Jason could only hope that he would forever remember the way Dick had pulled him up the stairs to their chambers, trying to muffle his laughter as Jason had stumbled on the steps in his eagerness. 

He wanted to sear into his memory the way Dick had looked when he had taken Jason’s hands and invited him to finally touch the way he had wanted to for the past week, to undress him and take in the sight of his husband – he could say that now, husband – in all his naked glory. 

And it would be a sin to forget the way Dick had sighed when Jason had laid him on the bed and put his face between his legs. 

Dick’s thighs had trembled when Jason had entered him for the first time, gasping into his mouth as they kissed desperately, rocking together in a primal dance they both seemed to know the steps to without ever having to practice. He had been impossibly wet, and both of them impossibly hard, and when they had finished they had finished together with a cry of each other’s names. 

Afterward, Jason had been the one trembling – Dick had held him against his chest and stroked through his hair with those gentle hands, murmuring sweet nothings to him as his breath had slowed. He’d fallen asleep with his hands resting on Jason’s back, and Jason only moved to kiss his forehead, his brows, his nose before settling his head down against his husband’s chest. 

He’d come to Gotham with a much different idea than this in his head, with reluctance in his heart and a hardness on his face. But if the rest of his life was to be this sort of softness, then he supposed his father had been wrong about that part of Jason. If gentleness, if loving something as much as he loved Dick was weakness, then he was happy to be weak for such a worthy cause.


End file.
